Page 47 of The Shadow of the Count

“Or Romania.”

Peter laughed. “Or there.”

Donnie almost found a smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again.”

“No? I thought that after Egypt. I did eventually.”

“Yeah, in my arms.”

Peter nodded. “Exactly.”

Donnie thought about that. “You’ll have to hold me tight, then.”

“As long as you want,” Peter said solemnly. “You have my word.” Peter kissed his temple, the touch featherlight.

That would do him for now. It would.

Peter being with him was everything he could ask for, in fact.

Sixteen

Peter woke at midday, his body as sore as his heart.

Don was still asleep, but the urgent need for a bathroom, then food, drove him out of bed. After he finished his sojourn to the toilet, he washed up, then checked on Don.

“Peter?”

“Did you want to come with me, love? I’m hunting food.”

Don made a face before rolling over and hiding under the blanket. Well, he had his answer. Don was not an early riser as a rule, and it had been a late night. He pulled on pants and a shirt, but that was as polite as he would be. Then he went in search of the others.

He found Jeb and Clark in the dining room, eating from the buffet, and he nodded to them, pouring himself a cup of tea.

Thank goodness food was appearing when they needed it. Someone was on the ball.

“Howdy,” Jeb said. “How is he?”

“Tired. Sad.” No sense lying. “Thank you for all you did last night,” he told his friends. “Your strength was a great boon.”

“It’s our job and our honor.” Jeb dipped his chin, nodding to him.

“Well, I know Don could never have done without you.” He glanced about. “Douglas and Charles?”

“Sleeping. We had a message from your friend Yvgeny. Bad night at the asylum. That patient tried to kill himself,” Clark said.

“What? What happened? How?” He didn’t understand.

“Not entirely sure. Apparently, he had an episode, got out of his room, and tried to jump to his death from a window.” Clark shook his head. “Yvgeny happened to be watching and caught him, but he took a terrible gash.”

“Good heavens.” Peter sighed. “Everything the count touches is befouled.”

“Where do we find this feller?”

Peter stared at Jeb, a light dawning. “Reynaud. He was arranging properties for the count here. Has anyone asked him where the count is supposed to be staying?”

“What?” Clark frowned at him.

“The count told me a clerk had come to him, sold him land in England. And the doctor said Reynaud was a solicitor who had gotten property for his master. The count has to be here.”